Arrows
by itsmadyagain
Summary: Barton. He's not... He's not like he used to be. He's changed. He's cold. And I don't know why. And it worries me. This is all my fault. Surrendering won't do anything because there's no way the team will let me go so easily. No, there's only one thing for me to do. What was it that Loki said...? I'm too young. Too young to be making decisions like this. I'm too young to die.
1. Prologue: Moving On

**Happy birthday to me! You know what Mady's birthday means? That's right: THREE NEW CHAPTERS! So, you're getting the prologue and first chapter of _Arrows_, the sequel to Animo (aka, this) as well as the next chapter in Tower Falling. Sound good? I hope you are all excited for this sequel, because I definitely am. Love you all! Enjoy!**

Prologue: Moving On

Mo's P.O.V.

My iPod was sitting beside me on the carpeted floor of my living room, blaring Fall Out Boy's "Tiffany Blews" from the tiny speakers. I hummed along as I leaned my back against the couch behind me. A sketchpad sat in my lap, a mechanical pencil in my hand. It wasn't professional by any means, but it was good enough for me. I wasn't really paying attention to what I was doing. Brendon's name was scrawled all across the page, along with little doodles of his eyes and the curve of his lips. But as I hummed and eventually sang along to my music, I forgot what I was doing and began scratching out the names of my friends on the Avengers team.

I thought about them every day since I was returned home. They never left my mind. Before I knew it, I was sketching out Barton's profile, shading the dark blue of his eyes with my graphite, keeping his skin lighter to coordinate with it. I didn't have a picture to look at. It was completely from memory. I never realized just how much I'd studied his face in the entire year I'd known him.

Almost a year had passed since I left New York and joined up with school and my family again. I came back a couple of months into my senior year, and I was welcomed back with open arms. Grace and Jenna, my best friends, were thrilled to see me again, as was Brendon. The initial enthusiasm at going back to school faded quickly. I hated school. It sucked. But at least everyone I loved was there with me, suffering as I was.

The grip on my pencil tightened. Suffering. They didn't know suffering. Suffering was watching your friend bleeding on a rooftop. Suffering was finding out that an alien invasion revolved around your imminent capture. Suffering was trying to rescue your brother from being tortured on your behalf and getting tortured yourself instead. Suffering was becoming infected with an alien virus that made you nearly kill the people around you. They didn't know suffering.

My earpiece beeped and I dropped my pencil onto the sketchpad, creating a speck of graphite on Barton's otherwise flawless face. I pressed my finger to my ear, just like when I was back in New York. But it wasn't Nick Fury's voice I heard in my head; it was Sergeant Walker, the police chief in my town. I'd been directly linked to the police force since I returned home for the simple fact that I knew how to fight the aliens and they did not. I also knew what they wanted, and I knew how desperate they were to attain it. They'd kidnap, torture, possibly murder anyone who stood in the way of getting their target: me. And I wasn't about to let that happen.

"Yeah?" I spoke aloud. There was nobody home but me.

"Agent, we need you to come in. There's a suspected drug deal scheduled to take place over on Cherry Street in the next half hour."

Unfortunately, there were no alien appearances in the almost year that I left New York. So, instead, I was stuck dealing with average criminals when the local crime fighters were busy doing bigger and better things. The only perk of the job was that I got to leave school early if there was something serious that they needed me for. And they called me "Agent".

I stood, stretching out my back. "I'm on my way. Have a cell ready for me. This shouldn't take long."

oOoOo

Barton's P.O.V.

_Sorry, I'm unable to come to the phone right now. But, if you're important enough, I'll call you back. Bye now!_

I kicked at a piece of concrete with the toe of my boot, rolling it back and forth across the rooftop. Mo's voice mail recording played over again in my mind, just as it'd done since the day she'd left us almost an entire year ago. I sighed. I guess I wasn't important to her after all. She'd never called back. I'd never called again. Rejection had a way of making you never want to emerge from your apartment again.

Unfortunately, I had duties to attend to as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. I couldn't just sit around and mope forever. That's what brought me to the rooftop of some random building, walking in circles with my bow clutched tightly in my hand. Scouting for any alien appearances was boring; they hadn't shown up since we stole Adam back from them. I couldn't help but hope that they had decided to leave and never come back. But things never have been that simple.

The sound of boots scraping against cement reached my ears just as someone clamped a hand over my mouth. Automatically, I went into defense mode, bringing my elbows back and digging them into my assaiant's stomach. The heels of my feet smashed into their toes, but their grip on me didn't loosen. Thinking fast, I dropped down to my knees, dragging the attacker with me, and rolled forward, sending them flying over my back. Soon enough, I was back on my feet. I crouched down, mirroring the stance of the alien standing across from me, a fierce scowl on my face. "You know," I spat, the corners of my lips tugging upward into a smirk. "Sneak attacks are hardly fair."

The arrogance faded quickly as soon as the alien, a tall male with shaggy red hair and tanned skin, grew an additional two arms. "Oh, shit," I cursed. This wasn't going to be good.

oOoOo

Mo's P.O.V.

My feet thundered against the rooftop as I sprinted after the drug dealer. His hair was crazy long for a guy and as black as a person's pupils. It was waving behind him like a flag. A part of me wanted to catch up to him just so I could grab a fistful of it and yank him to the ground. The other part just wanted to shove him off the roof. Either one would work just fine for me.

"You do realize that there's no where you can go that I can't follow you, right?" I yelled at him, hardly even out of breath. I'd been working out since returning home from New York. Morning jogs became a daily habit, and they really came in handy. "Anywhere! I can chase you anywhere!" I insist. "Except maybe the men's room!"

He skidded to a stop just as he reached the edge of the building's roof. It was a library, or at least I was pretty sure it was. The light was quickly fading from the sky, and the surrounding businesses were beginning to blur into one long chain, like an outlet mall. His heels pressed against the short ledge, he clenched his fists and turned to face me. "You really think that now is the time for jokes, little girl?" he sneered.

I snorted out a laugh. "Did you seriously just call me a little girl? How old do I look to you? Twelve? Bitch please."

In the lights of the streetlamps, I could see his eyebrows raise. "You've got quite a mouth on you, kid. Didn't your mommy teach you any manners?"

"Not at all. But Daddy taught me how to take out the trash." I pressed a button on my bracelet and felt my boots begin to warm around my feet. "I'll give you three seconds to put your hands in the air and kneel on the ground. And I don't intend to ask twice."

He laughed coldly and shook his head. "You overestimate your talents, little girl."

I ran at him suddenly, prepared to tackle him to the ground, but instead he flopped to the ground and flattened himself out, sending me sailing over his head and over the side of the building. I don't scream, however; not like the first time I was sent off the top of a building. I only found myself thanking Tony Stark as my boots kicked in and sparks spit out the bottoms of them and I flew back up into the air. My hair blew wildly around my face but came to a stop on my shoulders as I hovered right in front of the criminal's face. He was laughing when I showed up in front of him, thinking I'd surely broken every bone in my body. Now he only looked shocked. Idiot.

My hand darted out and latched onto his wrist. I landed gently on the roof's ledge and twisted his arm around behind him. My foot kicked out the backs of his knees, causing him to kneel on the cement roof. He gasped in pain, doubling over and bracing his free hand on the roof. Chuckling softly, I leaned over and whispered in his ear. "You just got your ass beaten by a seventeen-year-old. Now, tell me: how does that make you feel?"

oOoOo

Barton's P.O.V.

I take a few steps back. I'd dropped my bow when I'd rolled across the rooftop, and it was now sitting solitary beneath the alien's black boot. I could throw my arrows like a javelin, but the impact wouldn't be near as great.

The alien wasted no time in rushing at me, all four of his arms outstretched and aimed for my throat. I ducked out of the way, stumbling a little and scratching the heels of my hands against the concrete. They bled just a little, but I paid it no mind and instead made a mad dash for my bow. _If I can just get to in time, one arrow is all it will take to drop him,_ I told myself, moving so fast that my legs were numb.

A hand wrapped around my ankle, bringing me crashing into the roof. My pants tore when they came into contact with the ground, in turn causing the new scrapes in my knees to leak blood. I hissed with pain and flipped around onto my back, aiming a kick at the alien's head. But he wasn't alone anymore. As he grabbed onto my other ankle with one of his other three hands, a second alien came around my side and latched onto my wrists, holding them above my face. Yet another alien approached me as my two captors lifted me into the air. His eyes were as dark as his hair, and he wore a menacing grin. "Hello, Barton. Have you missed me?" he sneered.

"Garfield," I hissed, struggling against the hold on my limbs. Chris Garfield laughed at my expense. "You bastard. What do you want with me?"

"Just a little chat. And then you can go free." He gave me a twisted grin. "I promise."

I curled my lip at him, attempting to kick the creature holding onto my ankles. "Excuse me if I don't believe a word you're saying."

He laughs. "I'm not offended. Don't worry."

"This is about Mo, isn't it?" I accused.

Garfield's eyes glinted in the fading light. "Very good. I see they keep you around for more than just your skills with a bow, then."

I turned my face away from him, disgusted at speaking to him for so long. The aliens carried me toward what looked like a helicopter. How they managed to get their hands on one of those, I had no idea, but it didn't matter much right then. They threw me unceremoniously inside and climbed in after me, slamming the doors shut and bathing me in darkness. The only thought running through my mind in that moment was _I am so freaking screwed _before I lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter One: Unexpected Visitor

Chapter One: Unexpected Visitor

Mo's P.O.V.

I tapped the end of my pencil against my desk in a rapid tempo, propping my chin on the heel of my hand and staring dazedly at the whiteboard in front of me. There were numerous equations written on it, but my eyes were having difficulty focusing on what they meant, or even said. I turned my head to the side and stared out the window, watching the pedestrians walking their dogs on the sidewalk outside the high school. It was a Friday, but I was in fifth period, meaning I still had three more classes to go.

_God, I hate AP Chemistry,_ I thought to myself, sighing and trying not to let my eyes fall shut. _Chemistry..._

I thought of Stark and that horrible attempt at a pick-up line. Lord, it seemed like forever ago. Two Christmases ago, in fact. It just didn't seem possible that so much time could have passed since I saw them last. Several months, at least. The school year was almost over. I was a senior, ready for college come graduation, but I still had no idea what I wanted to be. After spending a year as a semi-dysfunctional superheroine, it felt weird to think I'd have to move on and continue with my education. If I didn't stay in town and continue working with the police force, that is. But it didn't seem so appealing to me.

I hastily scratched out little doodles on my assignment sheet with my pencil. _Can't this class go by any faster?_

"Miss Monet, are you even paying attention?" my teacher, Mr. Kenny, said harshly.

I looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "No," I answered truthfully. "Don't worry about me though. Carry on." He huffed indignantly and turned back to the board.

I'd been able to get away with a lot more things since returning from New York. The teachers were made aware of the fact that I could get called out to apprehend a criminal at any moment, and they also realized that things had happened to me in the year that I was away, things that I never explained to them but they understood had changed me. Whether it was for the better, I had no way of knowing at the time.

I returned my attention to the scene outside the window. The high school was in a nice part of town, surrounded by cute middle class homes with perfectly manicured lawns and a park on the east side where students would go to hang out on the warm spring days during lunch. I was there today, for example, eating lunch with Brendon and Brayden on one of the park benches while Grace and Jenna sat in the grass in front of us. The cafeteria in the high school is usually overly crowded, so it was nice to get some fresh air. But it was back in the eight-hour prison, now.

I tapped my heel repeatedly against the tile floor, drumming my fingertips on my left hand against my desk as I continuously sketched out more haphazrd drawings in the margins of my paper. I was getting a few strange looks from people I never really talked to, but they were all ignored. I checked the clock. _How is there still thirty minutes left?_ I thought desperately.

My earpiece beeped.

"Agent, are you there?" Sergeant Walker said in my ear.

I scowled, despite the fact that I was thrilled to have a distraction. "Sir, I'm in the middle of class," I whispered back. The students sitting closest to me looked over, kind of surprised but ultimately interested in if I was going to leave or not. It wasn't the first time I'd been called out in the middle of class. "What do you want?"

"Agent, I can't hear you very well. Can you speak up?"

"Miss Monet?" Mr. Kenny drew my attention back up to the front of the classroom. "Are you needing to leave?" I nodded stiffly with a slight shrug. "I'll have Mr. Masters bring you your homework, then. Good luck."

I grabbed my things and, finger still pressed against my inner ear, I left the class. The door swung shut behind me. "What do you want?" I repeated, louder now that I was in the hall. "You're calling me out of class again."

"There's been a disturbance in one of the old factories in the business district. One of the neighbors called and complained about hearing someone smashing things around inside."

I sighed and opened my locker. "And you want me to go over there and check it out? Isn't there anyone else on duty?"

I heard him chuckle. "I thought you'd be happy to have an excuse to leave class early, Mo."

I sighed again and dug my phone out of my pocket after throwing my books into my locker. I typed out a quick message to Brendon, asking him to leave his Spanish class and come out into the hall. "Yeah, yeah. Send me the address and I'll be right over," I said to Walker.

"We owe you one, Agent. Come by the station when you're done and I'll give you a cup of coffee." Stupid police station, thinking that coffee would win my over every time. It had so far.

I slipped off my tennis shoes and yanked my boots onto my feet. Brendon was striding down the hall toward me as I zipped my black jacket on over my t-shirt. "Leaving so soon?" he asked with a smile. He kissed my cheek and took my shoes from me, sticking them in my locker.

"Got a call about some guy hanging out where he shouldn't be." I adjusted the earpiece so it wouldn't fall out and smiled. "I should be home before you're out of class. As long as everything goes right."

"You seem pretty cheerful about it," he commented. I grinned and shrugged one shoulder. I was suddenly really excited to go out and see what was going on. Brendon laughed. "Why do I get the feeling you're not coming back?" His tone was light, letting me know he wasn't serious.

I smiled and kissed him quickly. "I'll be back shortly. Have fun in Spanish."

"_Adiós_," he called after me as I walked down the hall and out the door.

I cut across the lawn toward the parking lot. My car was parked toward the end, which was unfortunate, so I had to jog to get there in a timely fashion. Wrenching open the door, I jumped into the drivers seat and started the engine. Clicking my seatbelt into place as I backed out of the parking lot, I hummed a random Beatles song under my breath. My tires squealed a little as I tried to speed out of the lot and into the street as quickly as I could.

It was about a ten minute drive to the part of town where the call had come from. I parked my car a few blocks away and jogged the rest of the trip to the building. It rested almost on the outskirts of town with a large and empty field behind it. Slowing to a walk, I snuck along the side of the brick building and slipped in through the partially open door. Everything inside was dim, even though the sun was all the way up outside. It was silent as well, and I did my best to keep it that way as I crept across the dusty floor.

Breathing shallowly, I ran my hand along the wall so I wouldn't get lost. The building was huge; back in the day, almost half the town worked there. But that was decades ago. Now, it rested in near ruin. _Who would want to hang around here? _I asked myself.

Something clattered to the ground and there was the sound of a few muffled curses. I froze. Swallowing once, I tiptoed forward and peered around the corner of a doorway. There was a set of stairs leading up to a rotted second floor; from where I stood, I could see several holes permeating it. If I could get up there and not fall through, I could gain a height advantage over whoever was in there. Jump on their back, maybe...

Without giving myself time to question my plan, I darted forward and ran up the stairs before they could break beneath my weight. Now on the second floor, it was harder to mask my footsteps. Hopefully the intruder would hear me approaching and come out into the open. Either that, or they'd bolt. I would be okay with either option.

There was movement down below me; I could see it through the gaping holes in the floor. It was a large shadow that was moving, and I realized that whoever it was may be too big for me to take down on my own. I was breathing hard, trying to mask the sound as I crept ever closer to where they stood, unaware of my presence.

I was fortunate enough to discover a hole directly above them. Without a moment's hesitation, I jumped down the hole and landed with a _thud_ on the person's back. Immediately, my arms went around their neck in an effort to strangle them. "Don't move," I hissed in their ear. "It'll make it easier for you."

"Mo?"

The deep, booming voice caught me off guard and I dropped to the ground. My ass stung from the impact and the dust all around me became unsettled, but I wasn't paying any attention. "_Thor?_" I gasped, my jaw dropping open.

The god smiled down at me, his teeth glinting in the dimness of the factory. "Did you believe it to be someone else?"

I accepted his offer at a hand up and brushed the back of my pants off, sending dirt to coat the floor some more. "Well, yeah. I thought you were a drug dealer or a thief or something." I cleared my throat to get the dust out of it and raised my eyebrows at him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Thor's face grew serious. "We need you to come back, Mo."

That startled me. "Is it the aliens?"

"We're not sure."

I shake my head in confusion. "How are you 'not sure'? I mean, I know they look like normal people, but they have cat eyes. Have they been walking around? Has anyone been killed?"

"No, and no."

I sighed in exasperation, even though I'd secretly been missing the whole team. "Thor, I've got a good thing going here right now. What could you possibly need me for if it doesn't involve the aliens?"

Thor's gaze travels from my face and down to the dirty floor. "Barton."

"What about him?"

"He was kidnapped."

I ran a hand through my hair and nearly cried out in frustration. "Jesus Christ, can't you people keep _anyone_ safe?" I was on borderline hysterics and the news had only just been delivered. "Did you - did you try to get him back?" I was hyperventilating. My chest was rising and falling too quickly, and it looked like Thor was about to ask me how I was.

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, we did. Almost immediately after he was taken. He is on the helicarrier now, actually. But he is...different. He is a changed man."

"Did they torture him?" I gasped out, horrified at the thought.

Thor shook his head. "We do not know. He will not speak about what happened."

My heart throbbed uncomfortably in my chest and I felt like I was going to vomit. "What do you need me to do?" I choked out, clutching the fabric of my shirt in both my hands.

"Come back to the ship with me. It is waiting in the field behind this building. We will return to the helicarrier and you can try to fix our friend."

I nodded weakly as my earpiece beeped. "Mo, are you all right? You've been gone for quite a while," Sergeant Walker said.

I pressed my finger to it, growing tired of having to communicate this way all the time. "I'm fine. It's just Thor." That statement would probably be weird to anyone not knowing somewhat about my ordeal beforehand. "I'm going with him. Thanks for all the fun. I'll be back eventually."

"All right. Thank you for your service. The streets are safer becaue of you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I sighed, letting go of the button and pulling out my phone. I quickly sent a message to Brendon. _It's Thor._

He was quick to respond, even though I was pretty sure he was in his Trigonometry class by then. _You're leaving, aren't you?_

_Something's up with Barton. They want me to fix it. _I sent back as Thor led me out of the factory toward the field.

_But you are leaving? Right now?_

_I have to. He's my friend._

_I know. Be careful. Don't get hurt, all right?_

_I won't. I promise. I'll be back home to you, safe and sound, once this is all over. I just don't know when that'll be._

_That's all right. I'll wait. It won't be the first time._

I smiled as I saw the sleek black jet waiting patiently in the center of the grassy field, feeling as though it was only yesterday I was aboard it. It was almost crazy how much I missed being an agent with people I cared so deeply about. I sent Brendon another message as Thor and I waited for the ramp to drop down. _You're the best, Bren. I'll see you soon._

_I hope so. I love you, Mo._

My face went a little pink. He'd never said that before. We'd never said that to each other before. I wasn't completely sure what to say. I liked Brendon, obviously, and I was so happy to be with him, but I just... Something was holding me back. I didn't know what to respond, so I decided to pull a bitchy move and just slid my phone back into my pocket. I could deal with those three words some other time.

As the ramp dropped down, my heartbeat accelerated to an almost impossible tempo. Thor put his hand on the small of my back and grinned down at me. "We all missed you, Mo," he said.

I smiled back. "I missed you all, too."

The bottom of the ramp touched down on the grass. Automatically, I started up it. I was barely inside the jet before a flash of red jumped at me. "You're back!" Natasha screeched, very much out of character. "Thank God." She pulled back and smiled at me. "I missed you so much."

"The feeling is mutual," I chuckled. "It's good to see you."

She stepped back and a shy blonde took her place, wringing his hands a little in front of him. "Hello, Mo. How are you?" Rogers asked, looking up at me through his eyelashes.

"What're you so nervous for, stupid?" I asked good-naturedly, putting my hands on my hips. "I think we're past the formalities, aren't we?" He smiled, and I took that as an invitation to give him a bear hug.

"I missed you," he mumbled, seeming almost embarrassed.

I laughed. "Thank goodness. I was hoping the feeling wasn't one-sided."

He chuckled and let me go, allowing Banner to come forward next, his hair as messy as always as he hugged me also. "Tony hasn't shut up about you since you left, you know," he said with a humorous smile. "I think he missed you more than all of us."

"I heard that!" Stark's obnoxiously loud voice nearly shattered my eardrums, but I found myself grinning regardless. Banner stepped back and allowed the billionaire to approach me with his usual cocky air. "I didn't miss you at all, Mo. It would be pointless."

I folded my arms across my chest and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? How so?"

"I knew you'd be coming back to us eventually."

I pursed my lips. "Aw, Stark, ain't you just the cutest thing anyone ever did see?" I reached up and pinched his cheek with a sly grin.

He smacked my hand away and scoffed. "Stop it. I knew you couldn't stay away from us for long. It was only a matter of time before you came crawling back."

I smirk. "The way I understand it, it was you guys who came crawling to me. Can't fix your problems on your own, Starkie?"

"Not our Barton, problems, no," he said in a grim voice, his expression turning darker. "Natasha can't even figure out what's up with him, and she's the only other person as close with him."

My gaze turned hard, my jovial emotions sobering. "What exactly do I need to do?"

"As soon as we get to the helicarrier, we need you to talk to him," Rogers said. "Just talk. Try to get him to tell you about what happened when he was taken, because he won't tell us anything."

I nodded. "Has he just not been speaking at all?"

Banner shook his head. "He speaks. But he's cold, like he's angry with all of us. Sometimes he's more sarcastic than Stark is."

That was out of character for Barton. He was not a mean sort of person. Yes, he could be sarcastic, but it was never in a mean way like Stark on most occasions. I nodded stiffly. "I'll do what I can. How long until we reach the helicarrier?"

"We should be landing in a few minutes, Agent Mo," the pilot said, turning his head to look at me. I smiled in thanks and he turned back around.

When those few minutes had passed, I waited with the others for the ramp to be lowered so I could exit and find Barton. My boots clicked against the pavement as I joined them in striding inside the main part of the helicarrier. "Where is he?" I asked, addressing all of them.

Rogers looked briefly uncomfortable. "In the same room where we kept you after your surgery."

I raised my eyebrows. "Is he that bad?"

Natasha set a hand on my shoulder. "We're just worried about him. We're hoping he'll be nicer toward you. He likes you, you know?"

I frowned. "He likes all of you. Why should I make a difference?"

They all gave me a frustrated look that I didn't understand. "Just go talk to him while we call your parents and let them know you're with us again. We're heading back to New York shortly," Stark said in a bossy voice.

I scowled at him but obeyed, leaving the group to go see one of my best friends. Anxiety raged in my stomach, the acid within in it feeling as though it could come bursting up into my throat at any moment. I turned the last corner and out on a smile as I saw his back turned toward me, an inch of glass separating us.

My eyes traced over the familiar curve of his shoulders and the veins that stuck out a little from his forearms, visible because the sleeves on his black sweater were rolled up. Seeing him really brought home the fact that I was back with the team, ready to fight at any moment, ready to tease the life out of one the guys for doing something silly. But I missed Barton the most out of all of them.

I couldn't keep a smile off my face as I spoke. "Did you miss me?"

He turned to look at me. He'd grown his hair out a little, but it was the same old light brown color. His eyes were still the same blue, but something was different. They weren't filled with warmth like I remembered. They were cold and unforgiving, almost judgmental. His lips curled into a half smirk, but there was nothing humorous or snarky about it. It was filled with malice instead of folly.

He flashed his white teeth as his top lip curled into a disgusted snarl. "No."


	3. Chapter Two: Psychological Testing

**Wow, so it's been a ****_long_**** time since I updated this. To be honest, I kind of forgot about it in the midst of all the other things I've been writing, including my novel for National Novel Writing Month (I won, by the way). But now it's December, the weather sucks, and I spend whatever time I'm not at school in fuzzy pajama pants, which is the perfect condition for writing. Anyway, you don't want to read this note anymore, so carry on with the story. Hope you love the chapter!**

Chapter Two: Psychological Testing

Mo's P.O.V.

"No."

I blinked a few times and shook my head just slightly, immediately putting on a passive face like his words didn't just deal a minor blow to my heart. _No? What does he mean, "no"? I thought we were friends when I left? _"Good to see you too, sunshine," I said sarcastically, a small amount of my temper rising. "You'd think I'd get a warmer welcome after being away for almost a year." He just hummed in response. "What pole have you got stuck up your ass, Barton?"

His laughter was cold, just like everything about him as I was coming to notice. "No pole, Mo. Have you gotten taller?"

_What the hell?_ "I have, actually," I said stiffly, lifting my chin a little. I'd grown, like, two inches in the past almost year. Given I was so short, I was quite proud of those two inches. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're not the only one that's changed," he said ominously, his blue eyes fixated on mine.

I refused to look away. "Obviously." My eyes flicked around his surroundings, taking in the chamber he was being kept in. "What're you in for, Ace?"

He smirked. "You don't know? Surely they told you." I shook my head, my brow furrowing when the smirk grew broader, more sinister, and more unwelcoming. "I attacked Natasha."

My eyes got wider. Everyone knew it was a death wish to antagonize Natasha, the infamous Black Widow. Obviously there was a reason the Russian was dubbed that. As one of her best friends, I would have thought Barton would know that - or he knew it and just didn't care. Judging by how he was behaving now, I took that as the most plausible explanation. I had to give Natasha props for not killing him, though, even in this state. "What did you do to her?"

He waved his hand in a passive way, still smirking. "Oh, don't worry yourself. It wasn't awful. Said a few mean things, nearly shot her with an arrow, the usual deal. She, obviously, took offense to it and tried to beat me up." He laughed again. "That didn't go over well. I think I broke her nose. I heard a snap, in any case." My eyes widened. "Oh, Mo, don't look so horrified. You broke her nose the first day of training, remember?"

I was surprised that _he_ did. "I actually only gave her a bloody nose. The aliens tamper with your memory?"

The expression changed on his face to one of quiet contemplation. "They told you about that, did they?"

"Of course they did. Now, what are _you_ willing to tell me?"

Barton promptly sat with his back against the far side of the chamber, crossing his legs and folding his arms across his chest, as far away from me as he could physically get. "I'm not willing to tell you anything."

I glanced over my shoulder the way I'd come. There was no one in the hall, no one in the observation deck off to the side. There were security cameras, sure, and there were probably people watching me have this conversation with Barton, but what was the chance that they'd stop me if I were to do something...dangerous? I didn't think it'd be dangerous. I could handle myself. So I stared directly at where I knew there was a camera and mouthed two words: "Trust me."

I walked toward the controls for the place that'd been my prison for almost a month after my surgery and tapped a sequence of numbers on the screen's keypad. Slowly, the door slid open. I didn't anticipate Barton to make a run for it, and he lived up to my expectations by barely giving the open door a glance. With slow, deliberate strides, I entered the chamber and felt the door slide closed behind me. Now there was no way for me to get out if something bad happened - not that I expected anything to.

I sat across from him, my back against the closed door, and I mimicked his posture. "What are you willing to tell me?" I repeated, not unkindly but not exponentially joyous either.

Barton was sizing me up, and I knew it, too. His blue eyes skimmed over me, taking in my face, the set line of my jaw, the determined expression on my face and in my eyes. I knew what he was seeing, could see it reflected in his own face and eyes. We were close like that, or used to be, despite the difference in age. I didn't know where we were now.

After a few moments of silence, Barton finally spoke. "What do you want to know?"

My inquiry was simple: "What happened that night when you were taken?"

He shrugged in an offhand manner. "I was on surveillance that night, watching the streets from some building's roof and keeping a lookout for aliens. We hadn't seen them since we got your brother back. But I saw them then."

"And what happened?" I was honestly surprised that he was giving me genuine answers. Why me? Why not anyone else?

He shrugged again. "I got attacked, obviously. They had a helicopter that they threw me in and carried me off to their ship with, the same ship where you'd contracted that virus. And then the team came and rescued me a few days later, and that was that."

"What did they do to you while you were being held captive?"

Barton's eyes revealed nothing. It was almost like they were empty. "I don't remember." But he was lying.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yes, you do. What'd they do? You didn't just turn into a sarcastic asshole of your own volition, Barton."

"Maybe I did."

"Or maybe you didn't," I snapped back. "I'm not going to quit until I find out what happened, so you may as well just tell me now and make this whole process a lot less painful."

Barton's cold smirk returned and I knew then that I had lost him. For the time being, at least. "Persistent little thing, aren't you?"

I rolled my eyes and tried to sound humorous. "Now's not the time for short jokes. Just tell me what I want to know, and then I'll leave you alone."

He laughed again, but this time it didn't sound as cold as before. "You do realize that you're stuck in here until someone comes along to let you out? Surely you can't be that stupid." He shook his head at me. "You're an idiot. Do me a favor and just scream for help so you can get the hell away from me."

Tears pricked at the back of my eyes, even though I _really_ didn't want them to. This was not something to get upset over. Something was obviously wrong with him, and the only answer was the aliens. Chris Garfield must have done something to him, tampered with his brain, maybe. But there was no way he was going to tell me anything right now. No, I was already irritating him too much.

I pushed myself to my feet and looked toward the camera. "Can you send someone to come open this up?" I asked aloud. I could hear Barton getting to his feet as well, but I paid him no mind. "Hurry up. I think the douchebag virus is spreading."

Barton's hands clamped around my arms and he threw me, hard and fast enough that I smacked against the glass of the far side of the chamber. The air rushed out of my lungs and I laid on my back, clutching my chest and trying to suck in more oxygen. My former friend walked leisurely over and set his foot on my stomach, pressing down and constricting my airflow even further. My eyes were wide with the oncoming sensation of panic, and I grabbed at Barton's ankle, trying my hardest to throw him off of me, or even let up his hold a little bit. He wasn't budging.

_He's trying to kill me,_ I thought in a flash of sudden realization. _He's actually trying to kill me._

"Scared, little girl?" he said with a slight hiss, the corners of his lips turned up into a feral smirk. "You should me."

"B-Barton," I wheezed, tugging on his pant leg. "St-stop, please. I-I can't breathe."

His blue eyes were flashing dangerously, a glint in them that I never thought I'd see and never wanted to see again. He looked murderous, like killing me was the only thing on his mind. "Barton's not here," he snarled.

He was suddenly tossed aside and I could breathe again. Bracing my elbows against the floor, I sat up a little, my chest heaving as I hastily tried to refill my lungs, which were burning from their previous shortage of air. Thor had Barton up against the wall, his large hand gripping Barton's throat that seemed so much smaller in comparison. "Do not touch her again," the god said venomously, tightening his grip. "I will kill you myself if you do."

Rogers appeared by my side, one of his hands gently grabbing my shoulder. "Mo, are you all right?" he asked, actually looking a bit frightened.

I was still breathing heavily, but I could at least nod to him. Yes, I was physically all right; I was going to live. Emotionally, however, I was a mess. Barton tried to kill me. He was my best friend on the team, and he tried to kill me. What was I supposed to do about that?

Rogers smoothed a bit of hair out of my surely red face. "Come on. Let's get you out of here. I think you've have enough excitement for one day."

oOoOo

Rogers had made me go to the hospital section of the helicarrier, just so they could make sure I wasn't going to be damaged or anything. I was going to be just fine, exactly like I told him, but they gave me some painkillers for my head and told me that I would likely be getting a nasty bruise on my stomach - one in the shape of Barton's boot. I wouldn't be damaged enough that I couldn't fight or be part of the team, and yet I wasn't sure I was whole enough to ever want to be around Barton again.

Thor had accompanied us to the conference room after finally letting go of Barton, who hardly flinched when he was dropped to the floor. I didn't miss the cold, triumphant look in his eyes as he watched me get led away. I wrapped my arms a little tighter around my legs, pressing my knees into my sensitive stomach area.

"I'm sorry we put you there with him, Mo," Rogers said from his spot a few seats away from me. They were all seated with a least two chairs between me, actually, like they were afraid to touch me. Fury was pacing at the head of the table, his hands clasped behind his back. He hadn't said a word to me since I'd arrived. They were all speaking very little.

Natasha spoke up next. "We'll figure out what's wrong with him. We have to." I set my chin on my knees and didn't respond.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," Banner said from the opposite side of the table. "She'll talk again when she feels like it. Just leave her alone for now."

"What's she got to be stressed about?" Stark asked, obnoxiously loud like usual. "It's not like she was at war or anything. Isn't that usually what PTSD is associated with?" He gave a pointed look to Rogers, who merely scowled and said nothing.

Natasha glared at him. "She's seventeen and she's already been kidnapped by us, targeted by aliens, contracted a psycho virus, and had to rescue her older brother from being tortured. Her best friend just tried to kill her. You tell me what she has to be stressed about."

Stark opened his mouth to respond, but Thor cut him off. "Man of Iron, stop talking or I will throttle you as I did Barton. And this time I will not be so kind." He folded his arms across his chest as he leaned against the wall. "Just leave her be."

"Stop talking about me as if I weren't sitting right here," I said, staring at the table surface. "I haven't got PTSD. I've got 'I'm Pissed About Barton and I Need a Nap.'" I lifted my eyes to Stark's face, which softened a little as he looked at me. "Am I still staying with you?"

He looked briefly surprised. "Of course. Do you want to leave?" I nodded. "All right, then. Let's go."

I stood from my chair, ignoring the anxious looks I was getting from everyone else. Fury still hadn't spoken, but I wasn't expecting him to. Stark came around to my side of the table and gently looped his arm around me, setting his hand on my waist. He pulled me into his side, a look on his face like he was a protective older brother. He led me to the door, giving me a small smile as he did.

"Welcome back, Mo," Fury said suddenly, his deep voice booming from behind us just as we reached the door. "We _will_ find out what's wrong with Barton, and, rest assured: you _will_ be the first one to cure him."

"Thank you, sir," I said, studying the scuffs on my boots. "Have a nice evening."

And then Stark and I disappeared out of the conference room and onto the flight deck, the wind whipping at our faces and tossing my hair toward his mouth. He spluttered indignantly and attempted to brush the strands aside, but they just kept flying back. Eventually, he stopped trying. A jet was waiting for us several yards away, and we jogged to get to it before the wind chill froze us. Fall was setting in, meaning warm days and chilly nights. I was looking forward to it before returning to New York. Now? I wasn't so sure.

It took around fifteen minutes for the lights of Stark Tower to come into view. Stark, his steady arm still around me, managed yet another smile. He rubbed his hand on my arm, trying to get rid of the goosebumps, and said, almost with a laugh, "Home, sweet home."

Home, sweet home indeed.


End file.
